Exploring the Costa del Sol

So here's a quick update before I loose track of time in my final week here.

This weekend I took off for Torremollinos, a tourist beach town on the Costa del Sol (Sun Coast), with Abby and her brother, Nat, who has been visiting for two weeks. I don’t really know how to describe our trip except for pretty bizarre. Not all good, not all bad, just lots of strange moments.

First of all, we arrive at our hotel and with in minutes realize we are the youngest people staying there by about 40 years. It turns out this is prime season for the senior citizens to be visiting the coast because all the kids and college students are still in school. So needless to say the town was pretty quite and the bars were kind of sketchy. We were often greeted as we passed each one by someone speaking in perfect English, “Hey, you wanna come in and have a drink?” Uuumm, not really thanks if I have to pay 4 euros for a Coke.

On the bright side, our room had a great water front view and the next morning we woke up to sun even though the weather man had predicted a 100% chance of rain. Well, we lucked out and spent the whole day Friday laying on the beach. Down side, I got burnt. Upside, I got to sing karaoke that night in a self-proclaimed international bar called “El Open Arms.” I did my own rendition of “Let It Be” in honor of the time Rosie, Abner, and I sang it together in Italy. (Sorry Rosie. I know I said I would never talk about that again, but it makes the story complete.) Weird side, just as I was about to sing to the empty bar (ie Abby and Nat) a rowdy British bachelor party came romping into the bar and suddenly I was surrounded by a handful a drunk English men who happily helped me sing out the tune. Priceless.

The next day it did rain, but no worries. We headed into Malaga who’s claim to fame is being the birthplace of Picasso. We went to the Picasso museum and pondered his work for an hour or two. Then we checked out his birthplace which is also a museum. (I’m actually doing a report on Picasso right now. He actually only lived in Malaga until he was ten and then moved to Barcelona and then Paris. Once Franco took power, he refused to return to Spain.)

After lunch it was still raining and we were running out of ideas. “I know! Let’s go to Ronda,” we thought. This turned out to be trickier than expected. The bus and train schedules gave us very limited times, so we decided to rent a car for the afternoon. (The car of course was in the “Picasso” design.) With the help of GPS Nat drove that baby all the up the mountains and into the middle of nowhere. Just when I thought we were going to be lost in the gloomy clouds forever, there was light! And there was Ronda, the pueblo blanco (white town) sitting on top of the hill with a rainbow over it. (No lie. There was really a rainbow!)

Unfortunately our visit was cut short by rain, but we did manage to get lots of great pictures of Ronda’s famous (and infamous) gorge. During the Spanish Civil War a prison was built at the top of a cliff and prisoners were hurled to there death. Ronda is also the birthplace of bullfighting and home to one of the oldest bull rings. Hemmingway writes about both of these things in For Whom the Bell Tolls (Civil War) and Death in the Afternoon (bullfighting).

Speaking of bullfighting, did I tell you all I went to one? Now don’t judge me just yet. When I first arrived here I was sure I wasn’t going to see one, but the more I thought about it and talked to people, the more I felt like I owed the Spanish the open mind to at least go and experience it for myself before making a judgment. It was almost eerily ceremonial. Everyone was very hushed as the bull went through the three stages before its death. It’s actually quite fascinating, because when the matador finally takes the ring it becomes like a dance between him and the bull. Although I couldn’t help but think the whole time, “Watch out bull! It’s a trick!” The final kill is the worst. I tearred up seeing that great strong beast stumble to the ground. If you want to more details go to this web site that explains each stage: http://www.andalucia.com/bullfight/guide.htm

As for my judgment now? I feel that it’s unnecessary, but at the same time I know the Spaniards feel like it is an important part of their culture and I feel like I can’t be one to decide that it’s wrong for them.

On that happy note, I have to go and begin preparing for finals. I hope all is well and everyone have a good week!

All my love,

Emily